


The Game

by shopfront



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bad Flirting, Canonical Character Death, Courtship, First Dates, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Multi, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-02-22 17:02:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13171317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shopfront/pseuds/shopfront
Summary: Ariadne is surprised to find that Eames and herself make the perfect team - until they don't. The mission? To woo Arthur.





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vargs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vargs/gifts).



> Warning note: brief references to Mal's death and some of the impact on those around her, no other character death.

“Fancy seeing you here,” a warm voice said in her ear, chuckling when she nearly startled off of her bar stool.

“Eames!” Ariadne cried, one hand flying up to her chest in shock.

“A little quieter, love, if you don’t mind,” he replied. His eyes crinkled as he slipped into the seat next to her and tilted his head towards the end of the bar. “I’ve been following that gentleman all bloody day, and I’d rather he not catch wind of me just yet.”

Ariadne just stared at him for a moment, before she took a deep breath and dropped her hand with a laugh. “I didn’t expect to see you, well, ever again really.”

“And wouldn’t that just be a crying shame,” Eames replied, flagging down a bartender and ordering two whiskeys. Ariadne accepted one of the drinks reluctantly and started to protest that she didn’t drink whiskey, but Eames paid her no mind. “You should think about trying that, it really is very good,” was all he said distractedly, eyes still fixed covertly on his mark.

Ariadne just shook her head and bit her lip for a second before trying to subtly look over her shoulder. Eames tsked. Then he casually reached over to spin her barstool. He stopped the spin once she had turned just far enough that she was facing away from the bar and, she realised, looking directly at a mirror she’d missed on her way in.

“Much harder to spot us this way,” Eames murmured. He turned in the same direction and shifted closer until he was breathing lightly on her neck and looking back at her in the mirror. “Now lean back casually, that’s a girl, and laugh at me like I’ve said something outrageously flirty.”

A laugh burst out of Ariadne despite herself, something abrupt and uncertain and not at all seductive. But Eames just chuckled along with her.

“Close enough,” he said with an amused tilt of his head. “Now if you look past the lovely image that we make together-“

“Oh,” Ariadne said, laughter dropping away quickly. “There he is.”

“Correct, and damn,” Eames muttered. As they watched in the mirror, a woman slipped the mark a hotel keycard before sashaying out of the bar. “Guess this is where I leave him for the day after all. Fancy another drink?”

“I haven’t even touched the first one!” Ariadne cried. But she laughed helplessly at him when he winked and then spun them back to face the bar while still keeping one eye on the mark. The man in question walked straight past them. His eyes flicked over them and then seemed to dismiss them as just another couple. Once he was out of sight Eames’ slouch turned even more languid and he quickly turned his full attention to her.

“Well, well, well. However shall we entertain ourselves now?”

*

“Another whiskey?” Eames asked, some time later.

Ariadne grimaced, and curled more tightly into the secluded corner booth they’d shifted to sometime between whiskys two and three. “It’s disgusting,” she complained.

“And yet you keep drinking it.”

“ _You_ keep buying it.”

“One must keep a lady in the style to which she is becoming accustomed,” Eames said, signalling for a waiter and ordering more drinks, despite Ariadne’s request for something a little sweeter or at least maybe some wine. “You were saying something about Arthur kissing you on the Fischer job?” Eames continued blithely once the waiter was gone.

Ariadne sighed. “It was just to distract the projections.”

“But it didn’t work, did it?” Eames asked in a tone that wasn’t particularly questioning. Then he chuckled when she furrowed her brow thoughtfully. “I expected as much. That’s our Arthur.”

“So, what, you think it just was an excuse to kiss me or something?” she asked, then hesitated before confessing. “I did wonder.”

Eames tipped his head to the side and made a considering sort of noise. His eyes moved from Ariadne to the thinning crowd beyond their booth, and roamed restlessly from patron to patron while he pondered. “He might not even know himself…,” he ventured after a little while.

“You’re kidding,” Ariadne said, snorting with disbelief. “Arthur? Not know why he’s doing something?”

“He’s done this before though, love. Didn’t work out very well. Made him a little gun shy.”

“What do you mean by ‘this’?”

Eames waved his glass vaguely around in the air, and leant forward conspiratorially. “Falling for someone he works with. Him and Cobb and Mal. They were both a team and a _team_ , if you get my drift.”

“You’re kidding,” Ariadne breathed. “But he never seemed to care about-”

“Cobb’s ridiculous projection?” Eames shook his head and laughed wryly. “No, Arthur is many things. But if nothing else, he most certainly had his head better attached to his shoulders than Cobb ever did. He would never have forgotten she wasn’t real.”

“Still,” Ariadne said, collapsing back in her seat and taking a long drink. She dropped the glass back to the table with a small thunk once it was empty, and looked at Eames with wide eyes. “To be _with_ someone and then to see them again like that? To be attacked by them again and again? I can’t even imagine. That whole thing was so messed up.”

Eames hummed in agreement, and then gave himself a small shake. 

“All that morbidity aside, Arthur might not be here and more’s the pity, really,” Eames said softly. He eased to his feet and then leant back down again until she could feel his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. Ariadne shivered, and she felt Eames grin before he straightened up. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t still have a little fun.”

Ariadne twisted around herself until she was nearer to the edge of the booth and could lean sideways against the warm weight of his body. Then she looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes, amused. “Are you trying to get me into bed, Eames?”

Eames quirked an eyebrow down at her, still smiling. “That I am,” he rumbled.

“Okay,” Ariadne said. She finally let herself smile cheekily in return, and then allowed him to help her to her feet. “Such a gentleman.”

Eames just smirked and extended a hand before them with a bow of his head. “After you, m’lady,” he said, and fell into step with her as she laughed and headed for the door.

*

It took a few more months - and one submitted dissertation - before Ariadne received the call.

“Eames said you might be interested in a job,” came Arthur’s voice down the line.

Ariadne abruptly straightened from her half-hearted slouch over her computer. “Job? I mean, yes. Yes. I might be, what is it?”

“Keep your morning free tomorrow. I’ll come to you with the details.”

The call disconnected just as suddenly, leaving Ariadne staring at her phone in disbelief. After a moment she laid it back down on her desk and started hurriedly typing out apologetic emails. Once she had cancelled or otherwise cleared the rest of her week, she closed her laptop and curled up on couch to pull her phone back out.

_‘Heard you recommended me to a certain someone.’_

It only took a moment for the reply to ding, the first reply to anything that she'd received all evening despite her flurry of messages.

_‘Thought you might miss us.’_

Ariadne considered the words for a long time. Then she put the phone down without responding, and flicked on the television with a smile.

*

“I didn’t know you and Eames were still in contact,” was the first thing out of Arthur’s mouth once they’d dispensed with the pleasantries and ordered their coffees. Ariadne smiled at him weakly, eyes fixed on a fruit vendor behind his shoulder as she furiously tried to think _up, float, explode_ at it.

Arthur certainly knew how to pick out a cute cafe. But it was eerily reminiscent of her first time in dreamscape with Cobb, and she couldn’t exactly pull the chess piece out of her pocket in broad daylight-

“Ariadne?”

“Sorry?” she replied, tuning back in just in time to catch the tail end of a puzzled frown before Arthur’s expression smoothed back out. “Right, Eames, yes, we… ran into each other. Why, what did he say?”

“Not much,” Arthur said, and narrowed his eyes at her even as he smiled. “Which is a little unusual.”

Ariadne just smiled back at him. The silence stretched out for a moment, then Arthur shook his head. One side of his mouth twitched upward as he spoke, “so the job is an extraction. Personal information, nothing too complicated but a CEO wants to know what her husband’s been up to while she’s busy in the boardroom.”

“What, like if he’s cheating or something?” Ariadne asked, accepting the file Arthur pulled from his briefcase and flicking it open.

“Or something. If he’s just cheating, she’ll be happy.”

“Huh. Okay. So it’s me, you, Eames, and…?”

“That’s right.”

Ariadne furrowed her brow and looked up over the top of the file. “What?”

“It’ll just be the three of us. Eames has been known to run an extraction in a pinch, he is a thief after all. The mark is a middling sort of professional artist, none of the success that might connect him with dreaming other than through his wife and there’s no evidence of militarisation. All my research so far indicates that he is, in fact, just cheating. But she’s willing to pay top dollar to be sure, so-”

“So we make sure,” Ariadne finished, turning her attention back to the file. “Sounds simple enough. I’m in, where do we need to go?”

“Just like that?” Arthur asked. He leant backward and hooked an arm over the back of his chair. Ariadne’s gaze was drawn down the long line his suit made of the sprawl, but she hurriedly dragged her eyes back up as he continued talking. “I was under the impression you didn’t intend to continue with this sort of work until Eames mentioned you.”

“It’s still just… pure creation, though, isn’t it? I guess I’ve failed to walk away from that twice now, is all.”

“Alright.” Arthur considered her for a moment and then threw back the last of his coffee. As he stood, he smoothed down his clothes and swung his jacket over his arm before he offered his elbow to her. “Shall we? There’s just enough time to make our flight if we leave now.”

“What, but- I need to pack! I don’t have my passport!” Ariadne said, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Arthur winked and patted a pocket, then shook his elbow at her slightly. “Eames sent me with a little paper present for you. Besides, it’s safer for you to travel this way if you plan to continue going into the field.”

“I-,” Ariadne started, then stopped and dragged a hand through her hair. She stared at her empty cup for a moment before she stood up and took his arm. “Fine. But I’ll need to make a few calls from the airport.”

Arthur’s eyes danced as he began to lead the way towards the street. “Absolutely,” was all he said, and before Ariadne knew it they were both flagging down a taxi and well on their way.

*

“You know, when you said New York I was kind of looking forward to Central Park and the Empire State Building.”

Arthur chuckled beside her in the cab as it pulled up to the curb. “We needed something a little more out of the way. Stipulation from the client, she’s being very particular that nobody catches on about her hiring us.” 

Frowning, Ariadne hopped out of the car and waited as he paid the fare, looking curiously up and down the street until Arthur followed her out. He quickly unlocked and ushered her through a door. 

“Eames should have a spare set of keys for you by now, but there’s enough living space for us to sleep here as well so you probably won’t get much use out of them,” he said as they walked up two flights of stairs to reach another door.

“Shared entrance?” Ariadne asked, surprised, but Arthur shook his head as he turned the key.

“All the other apartments are empty. With a little luck, nobody should notice us coming and going.”

The door swung open to reveal an entrance hall and Eames leaning against a wall in the dark. He smiled at them both, wide and generous like they were the best thing he’d seen all day. His teeth flashed brightly in the darkness of the hall for a moment, and Ariadne grinned back at him until Arthur flicked the light on. 

Then she gasped.

“You’re hurt,” Ariadne said loudly as she dropped the plastic bag full of temporary clothes she’d purchased at the airport and rushed to his side.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Eames said, batting her hands away from the wadded up rag he had pressed against his forehead. “Some idiot tried to mug me a few blocks over and I was a little too curious about discovering whether they’d be any good at it.”

Ariadne threw a half-hearted glare over her shoulder. “You said this area was only out of the way. Not that it was dangerous!”

“It _is_ only out of the way,” Arthur said. He looked torn between raising an unimpressed eyebrow at Eames, or joining Ariadne in her concern. “Unless Mr. Eames decides to gamble with stupid choices on street corners, apparently. There’s a first aid kit here somewhere, hang on.”

He closed the front door, picked up Ariadne’s bag, and disappeared past them into the apartment.

“Um, I don’t really know all that much about head wounds,” Ariadne said cautiously. She stretched up onto the tips of her toes to try prying Eames’ hand away again so she could get a better look, but he still resisted her.

“It’s just a scratch. Anywhere else on me and it would have stopped bleeding by now.”

“What did they do, clobber you over the head with a handbag or something?”

Eames barked out a short laugh. “Something like that.”

Before Ariadne could ask anymore questions, Arthur re-appeared beside them with a small white box. He promptly flipped the lid open and Ariadne reached for it, then hesitated, her hand hovering above its contents. Smiling gently at her, Arthur drew the box back and started rummaging through it. Gaze roaming over Eames face, he started handing antiseptic wipes and gauze pads over one by one.

“Shallow?” he asked, shifting to recline against the wall next to Eames.

Eames gave a short nod. “Not that you’d know from the way I’m bleeding like a stuck pig,” he muttered.  

“Are you sure you shouldn’t-,” Ariadne started to ask, but Eames shook his head sharply to cut her off.

“No need to draw attention, or place yourself at the mercy of the American healthcare system, isn't that right, Mr. Eames?”

“Precisely, darling,” Eames said, though he winced as Ariadne smoothed a make-shift bandage into place a little more roughly than she maybe could have. Then he quickly switched on the charm again. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Really, there’s more than enough work for you both to be getting on with, you shouldn’t be out here fussing over me.”

“Do you need anything?” Arthur asked, face stern, before Ariadne could tell Eames to shut up.

“Wouldn’t mind a stiff drink for this blooming headache,” was all that Eames griped in reply, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

“You can’t seriously be planning to drink with a head wound,“ Ariadne said incredulously. “I know enough to know that’s probably a bad idea!”

“Hush,” Eames said, and reached up to clasp the hand she still had hovering near his face. “Did you miss me?”

Ariadne looked at him a moment, and then blushed and shoved at his shoulder with her other hand.

“Ah, I thought as much,” he said as he wound his arms around her waist and pulled her in closer.

“Maybe if you hadn’t let someone steal your lunch money you could buy yourself that stiff drink,” Arthur said wryly from beside them, and then pushed off the doorframe and disappeared back into the apartment.

“Yes, well,” Eames huffed and Ariadne laughed at them both. “I wasn’t sure you’d take the job,” Eames continued quietly once they were well and truly alone.

“Sure you weren’t,” she replied, disbelieving.

“That’s right, I wasn’t,” Eames said seriously as he tightened his grip a little. “We left things… well, I know I certainly had fun. But not everybody in this business wants to keep working with someone after they’ve had a roll in the hay with them.”

Ariadne blinked up at him for a moment. 

“Too intimate,” he elaborated. 

Brow furrowed, Ariadne quickly pointed out that, “we already let each other _into our minds_.”

“Precisely,” was all Eames said. He dipped his head to drop a kiss on her lips as he spoke, and she let him, distracted by her confusion.

“That’s absurd,” Ariadne muttered, but her words were swallowed by a pleased hum when Eames persisted in gently opening up her mouth with his own. “Besides,” she continued when they re-surfaced for air. “It's possible that you may have left me with some...  _interesting_ questions last time.”

She let her eyes stray for a split second in the direction Arthur had gone.

“Oh?” Eames asked, all seriousness dropping abruptly out of his tone. He also darted a glance at the half-closed door between them and the rest of the apartment. Then he kissed her cheek as he shifted his mouth around nearer her ear. “Whatever could you mean by that?” he whispered, before he slipped from her grasp and headed after Arthur with a wink.

*

It didn’t take them long to fall into a routine. One of them would duck out to pick up food at meal times and bring it back to the apartment, and Arthur had set up comfortable if makeshift bedrooms for each of them out back. That left them with a large lounge area for their desks and a small kitchen to house their growing collection of take away containers.

In actual fact, however, only Ariadne and Eames had comfortable rooms. After a few nights Ariadne caught a glimpse through Arthur’s usually closed door of the closet sized space he seemed to be sleeping in, and frowned. 

But mostly, between models and sketches, she just watched curiously as Arthur and Eames bickered less without Cobb around. Instead, when Eames poked and prodded and laughed, Arthur just rolled his eyes and sighed and moved to accommodate him.

“You’re both fascinating,” Ariadne confessed in a hushed tone one afternoon while Arthur was out fetching lunch, even though they were entirely alone. “I thought you didn’t get along at all during the first job!”

“Oh, the things I could tell you,” was all Eames said. 

But he also promptly crowded in behind Arthur in the kitchen when he returned. The position trapped Arthur between Eames’ body and the bench as Eames slowly browsed the selection of food. Ariadne had to smother a giggle when Eames winked at her before he hooked his chin over Arthur’s shoulder to see more clearly.

Arthur just sighed and rolled his eyes at Ariadne, but she could see a smile lurking. Despite that, he still twisted free faster than she could follow the moment that Eames gave him enough wiggle room. He snagged a sandwich and brushed past Ariadne with a nod, leaving her and Eames alone with the rest of the food.

“Did he just…?”

“Try to give us some privacy?” Eames asked, then nodded as he bit into an apple. “Cheeky little prick,” he said, words muffled as he chewed.

“Eames! It’s considerate,” Ariadne scolded as she started poking through the containers herself. “Though, maybe we should encourage him? Have you seen that ridiculous tiny room he’s sleeping in?”

Eames raised his eyebrows at her and made a thoughtful noise. “If that’s your way of asking me to wake up next to your beautiful face again, I wholeheartedly accept,” he said after he’d swallowed.

Laughing, Ariadne loaded up a plate and then headed back into the main work room with her food and Eames in tow. She made a point of brushing her hand along Arthur’s shoulders as she headed for her own desk, and cheerily pretended not to see his confused face as she tucked in. 

Nor did she acknowledge his searching look over breakfast the next morning. Though she had, at least, been pleased to notice her hurriedly emptied room wasn’t so empty when she’d stumbled out for her morning shower.

*

Ariadne found herself turning an idea over and over in her mind later that night. It was the early hours and they lay curled together, sweating and cooling down in a tangled mess of sheets. Finally, Eames surprised her by telling her to just spit whatever it was out, already.

“I just, I have to ask. I don’t- how did the three of them even work? Cobb always seemed so….“

“Deeply and unhealthily obsessed with Mal?” Eames asked, stroking a hand through her hair. “Yes, well. They were both exceedingly fond of Arthur, don’t mistake me. But at the heart of it was always their marriage. Pair of proper crazed lovebirds, those two, and not as much room for someone else as maybe there aught to have been, I suspect.”

Ariadne considered that for a moment, nodding. “I did always think Arthur and Cobb seemed close. I mean, Arthur seemed almost wilfully blind to the extent of Cobb’s problems during the Fischer job and-”

“I don’t mean fond like that, love,” Eames interrupted. “That came later. I don’t think they could have been anything other than blindly loyal to each other after everything. But before, well. Before all that they were both fond of Arthur in a very different way.”

“Different?”

“It was sweet. They might have been crazy for each other, but they still thought the world of him.”

“But you just said you didn’t think they had enough room for him.”

Eames shoulder shifted under her as he shrugged. “Who am I to judge, really? It wouldn’t be my cup of tea, and _Arthur_ certainly seemed to think it was a perfect fit.”

Ariadne watched Eames through her eyelashes as he spoke. “But you still don’t sound like you approve,” she pointed out.

“Ah, well, you know. Arthur is all suits and straight laces and no imagination. Being on the outside looking in, being part of something but always having some distance, some control. I suspect it was exactly what he wanted.”

“Tell me about them. What they were like before?” Ariadne asked. Eames raised his head from the pillow to peer down at her, but once he saw her face he just chuckled and shifted on to his side to wrap himself more firmly around her.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “How about the time I realised the three of them were together, then. It was before the little ones came along. I only met Mal a few times, you understand. They had a few shady connections already, mostly through Arthur. But they were still just researchers at that point. However, Mal was fascinated by forging, and they were willing to pay me for my time so I figured why not. It was as good an excuse for a holiday as any.”

As he spoke, Ariadne re-arranged herself in his arms. She let her eyes drift shut, watching her own fingers trace the tattoos on his chest and letting the sound of his voice lull her.

“Mal thought they’d made some sort of theoretical breakthrough in explaining why some people can forge and others can’t seem to get the knack for it. It was all bollocks to me, of course. I only ever cared if the forge worked. But she ran out and bought some silly sweets to mark the occasion. I think it might have been cupcakes, or some such.”

Ariadne made a happy noise, and murmured, “mmm, cupcakes.”

Eames chuckled, and she felt him tuck a lock of hair behind her ear before continuing. “She brought them back in a fancy box with candles, and lit them all up like it was somebody’s birthday. Popped mine down on the table in front of me, right as rain, and then carried Cobb’s over to him and held it up to his mouth to blow out the candle. The man kindly obliged her, and let her feed him the first bite and then lick the icing off his lips. Blighter only remembered I was there afterward. He went bright red immediately, of course, but Mal didn’t care. She just laughed, and went to fetch the last cupcake.”

“Where was Arthur?” Ariadne asked sleepily, when Eames trailed off.

“Right next to Cobb. Leaning on his shoulder and laughing at him along with Mal. I was laughing at him as well, for that matter. But then Mal brought the last cupcake over to Arthur and proceeded to do the exact same thing with him that she’d done with her husband, and said husband didn’t even blink.”

They lay there in the dark in silence for a little while after that, just embracing and touching. “That does sound sweet,” Ariadne said eventually. “Though I still don’t understand what you disapproved of.”

“Well, he left later that day, didn’t he, love. I stayed with the Cobb’s and ran through more of Mal’s experiments with her. But Arthur just up and walked out the door for a job and they carried on with married life. Without him.”

Ariadne opened her eyes, suddenly wide awake again, and strained to see Eames clearly in the dark. “You wouldn’t want us to be like that.”

“Ah, so you _have_ decided there’ll be an us three then?” Eames replied with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Have you asked Arthur what he thinks of all this yet, by any chance?”

“As if you don’t already know that I haven’t,” Ariadne just scoffed, then sighed. 

“You might want to think about doing that sooner rather than later, before you get your hopes up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I… may have suggested other arrangements to him, a time or two,” Eames said. Ariadne still couldn’t see his expression clearly, but he sounded sheepish.

“You didn’t,” she said in disbelief. Then she smacked him on the arm lightly. “Oh my god, you did!”

“It didn’t seem right,” Eames protested, warding her off when she moved to smack him again. “He’s so… Arthur. And they were so… Mr. and Mrs. Cobb. I thought he could have had something a little more interesting, was all.”

“Something more interesting, what, like you? You said they were sweet!” Ariadne cried, and then stopped and considered the faint outline of Eames’ profile. “He was offended, wasn’t he?” she asked softly.

“Well, he can be a little boring sometimes, you must admit,” Eames chuckled. But when Ariadne didn’t laugh with him, he relented. “I didn’t know what I was offering him. Not really. Not other than that we could be something different and more all consuming than what I thought he had, and he saw right through to the heart of that unknown and rejected me for it.”

Laughing now, Ariadne poked Eames hard in the bicep. “You were jealous. That’s why you thought they were bad together,” she said, snickering. Eames started to protest but she cut him off immediately. “No, you forget that I know you better now. You only insult him when you think he doesn’t want you.”

“Noticed that, did you?” Eames said, wryly, and scrubbed a hand down his face. “Okay, fine, he’s not boring. Just fond of certainties. Something that I didn’t have to offer him, then.”

Ariadne laid back down and resumed tracing aimless patterns across Eames’ chest in silence as she turned over all of the new information in her mind. “But they did. Do you think, if Mal hadn’t, that-,” she started to ask slowly. But then they both stiffened and look at each other in alarm as the sound of a closing door echoed through the apartment.

“Ask me again another time, love,” Eames said quietly, brushing a kiss against her shoulder. He lingered a moment there, then sighed and settled back against the pillows. “Though I’m honestly not sure I have an answer for you.”

*

“So, the mark’s mistress, then,” Eames said after sneaking the bagel off Arthur’s plate the next morning and taking a bite. Ariadne wrinkled her nose at him for talking with his mouth half full, but Arthur simply hugged his coffee protectively close and ignored him.

“Recon?” Ariadne asked. Eames hummed an affirmative and disappeared back out of the kitchen.

“I have some files you should take a look at,” Arthur said as he reached for a fresh bagel, “and some preliminary ideas for the architecture.”

“Alright,” Ariadne said, reaching over and snagging his coffee cup while he was focused on the new bagel. “Come find me when you’re ready.”

She heard an outraged noise behind her as she followed Eames, and smiled.

*

As penance, Ariadne offered to do the lunch run that day. She made a point of going a little further afield to find a Chinese restaurant that both she and Eames suspected had become Arthur’s favourite. It paid off, and she was rewarded with a dimpled smile as she unpacked the food.

“I may have ordered enough for three on autopilot,” she said as she laid out box after box. Then she watched carefully as Arthur picked out a few dishes in particular. When he looked up, though, she quickly glanced away before he could notice.

Definitely a favourite. Eames would be thrilled.

“More for us then,” Arthur said, still grinning. Then, to her surprise, he tugged a chair out from the rickety kitchen table and settled down to eat.

“Not working through lunch, for once?” she asked as she’d picked out some food of her own and sat down with him.

“I thought we could talk,” Arthur said, not looking up, and then quickly filled his mouth with food. Eyebrows raised, Ariadne cracked her chopsticks and sat back to watch and wait. “You and Eames seem close, these days,” he continued after he’d swallowed.

Ariadne picked up an egg roll and took a big bite. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, and then offered, “you two seem to be getting along better, these days.”

Surprised, Arthur’s eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Look, I don’t-“

“Arthur-“

They stopped for a moment, staring at each other. Then they chuckled, and the tension broke.

“I’ve known Eames a long time,” Arthur said, shoulders relaxed again. “What’s going on between you two is none of my business, but I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Ariadne reached across the tiny table and grabbed Arthur by the hand. When he blinked at her for it, she tightened her grip so he couldn’t try and pull away. “You’re very important to both of us,” she said firmly. Arthur opened his mouth, brow furrowed, but she kept talking quickly before he could interrupt her. “And the three of us are working together, so what affects us will affect you. Of course it’s your business.”

Arthur stared back at her, and she smiled encouragingly at him.

“Tell me if it’s not my place-“

“If you’re worried that Eames is going to, I don’t know, break my heart or something. Don’t. I’m fine, and he’s not like that.”

“Ariadne-“

“He’s not, Arthur,” she said, and stroked her thumb over the back of his hand. Arthur swallowed hard, and Ariadne had to fight back an obvious grin at the crack in his composure. She considered and discarded a few responses for a moment, before withdrawing her hand. “Tell me if it’s not my place,” she said, echoing him wryly. “But if you’re this concerned, maybe you should talk to Eames about it? I know you two have a history, but he might surprise you.”

Arthur fiddled with his chopsticks for a moment, and then nodded. He smiled at her, but it seemed forced. “Maybe I should,” he said, before turning back to his lunch.

Ariadne watched him for a moment. Then she swallowed a sigh and started eating again herself, still watching him.

*

“Did he?” Ariadne asked quietly as Eames slipped the PASIV needle into her arm a week later. She watched over his shoulder warily, but Arthur still hadn’t yet followed Eames out of the kitchen.

Eames shook his head, jaw tense, and Ariadne laid back with a huff.

“He agreed he’d talk to you. Kind of. Damn. I was sure he'd have tried to discuss it by now.”

“Might be time for us to force the issue a little then, love,” Eames whispered back.

Finally, Arthur appeared and made a beeline for them.

“Ready for the test run?” he asked them both, and looked satisfied when they nodded. Ariadne waited until he was occupied with his own needle, then turned back to Eames to pull faces of confused enquiry at him. But Eames just smirked and settled into his own chair, and before she could try to ask any covert questions Arthur had activated the PASIV and down they went.

*

“Did you two want some alone time down here?” Arthur asked. 

Ariadne looked over, startled. She’d almost forgotten the plan that Eames had whispered in her ear in fragments whenever Arthur was distracted by examining the building she’d designed. But there Arthur was, leaning in the doorway and watching them with a heated look. Eames mouthed a little harder at her neck for a moment, and then pulled back, looking entirely unconcerned. 

Eames probably hadn’t forgotten.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, shifting Ariadne with the hand he had pressed to her lower back so they were better displayed to Arthur’s gaze. “We need your opinion, don’t we? Are we distracting enough?”

Arthur’s eyes raked down their bodies. “You don’t need me to flatter your ego, Mr. Eames,” he said dryly. Then he pushed off the doorframe and disappeared.

Ariadne stared at the empty space for a moment in disbelief, while Eames groaned.

"I knew that wouldn't work."

“Oh, did you?” Eames asked. “Lovely of you to tell me before now, then.” He dropped his hands from her waist and strode irritatedly to the other side of the room, one hand on his hip and the other buried in his hair.

“Hey, don’t blame me. This was your idea!”

Eames let out of long gust of breath, and then turned back to her with an apologetic expression. “You’re right, love. I’m sorry. He’s just so-“

*

“- fond of his distance, is our Arthur,” Eames grumbled into Ariadne’s hair later that night.

“You can’t claim that’s new information,” Ariadne grumbled back, burying her face harder in his neck. “We both knew what we were getting into.”

Eames sighed. “Today was a minor miscalculation.”

Ariadne nodded miserably. “Too fast, too soon,” she said. Then she pursed her lips and pulled back enough to look Eames in the eye. “Go hard or go home?”

“I don’t see why not,” he murmured, as he leant in to kiss her.

*

Ariadne waited until she heard the front door close, signalling Arthur had returned with breakfast.

“Eames, have you seen my purple shirt?” she called down the hall.

“Can’t say I have, love,” he yelled back. Huffing dramatically, Ariadne followed his voice and found the two of them standing just inside the entrance hall. Eames eyes widen slightly when he spotted her, then he pulled a powdered sugar covered finger out of his mouth with a pop.

“Are you sure? I can’t find it anywhere,” she complained.

“Well, at least we know where it’s _not_ ,” he said with a smirk as he eyed off her bra and jeans.

Ariadne levelled a half hearted glare at him. “Do you remember where you threw it, at least?” she asked, and then took proper notice of the box of pastries in Arthur’s hands. His very still, very not-looking-below-her-eyes hands. “Ooh, croissants!” 

 “Ah, _that_ purple shirt. Let me go and have a look.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Arthur,” Ariadne said in a sing-song as she snagged a pastry and then followed Eames back to their bedroom. Arthur just raised his eyebrows at her in what seemed like amusement as she sauntered away. But she caught him as he promptly fled into the kitchen once she'd reached the door.

*

“Are we sure that Eames and I are the best combination to get him thinking about the affair? I mean, I’m not exactly his type and Eames looks nothing like him. Maybe it should be you and Eames in a forge that looks more like the mistress? Or you and me?” Ariadne asked Arthur later that day while she casually sipped at a cup of coffee.

Arthur gave her a long, assessing look. "I think the current plan is fine," he said. Then he just shook his head and left the room without another word.

Sighing, Ariadne dumped the rest of her coffee in the sink. She hadn’t even wanted any. Arthur had just been alone in the kitchen.

She returned to her latest half-completed diagram with less than passionate fervour. Until, a few hours later, Arthur slammed his way out of the apartment to get dinner. Eames immediately emerged from the direction of the bedrooms with a harried look. Spreading her arms wide, Ariadne cried, “now what?”

“I may have been a little overzealous?”

Ariadne made a go on gesture, and Eames grimaced.

“I think he maybe thought I was trying to cheat on you?”

Groaning, Ariadne slumped back in her desk chair and let it spin her lazily around. “God. How are we so bad at this?”

By the time she’d made a full circle on the chair, Eames was just considering her sadly. “I honestly don’t know, love. Arthur’s always thrown me off my game.”

*

“I still can’t believe the wife won’t help us get access to the mark,” Ariadne complained a few days later while she poked listlessly at a model.

Arthur shrugged. “She’s worried someone will connect the dots and come up with corporate espionage instead of philandering spouse,” he said, but his movements were also jerky with irritation as he rolled up his sleeves and finished pushing furniture aside.

“Not a ludicrous concern, by any means,” Eames drawled. Then he moved suddenly, and was across the room and on Arthur in an instant.

Intrigued, Ariadne put aside her model and turned to watch them spar.

“Watch it,” Arthur barked, when Eames nearly got a hold - one likely to tear - on Arthur’s trousers.

“You’re the one who needs to brush up on fighting in formal wear while topside,” Eames said brightly, panting slightly. Then he ducked and rolled and grabbed again. Arthur yelped as he evaded Eames, and then blushed when Ariadne snickered. “I did offer to help snag the man, but you keep insisting I’ll stand out.”

“The mistress' favourite restaurant is smack in the middle of the financial district. You know this,” Arthur said, huffing as he continued to dodge.

Eames came to an abrupt halt, aggrieved. “I know you know I look good in a suit when I need to,” he said with a pout. Then he went tumbling to the ground with a shout of laughter as Arthur ran full tilt into him.

They hit the ground with a thump, and Ariadne darted out of her chair to get a better view without all of the desks in the way. Arthur was still a little red in the face, laughing down at Eames. Eames in turn was grimacing underneath him, but determinedly bringing his arms up around Arthur’s middle.

At the touch of Eames’ hands, Arthur stiffened and began to scramble off Eames.

“Right. Thanks for the refresher course,” he said abruptly. Then he ducked out of the room before they could get a word in, avoiding Ariadne’s eyes.

Eames sat up slowly. “I thought you spoke to him about our little misunderstanding?”

“I did,” Ariadne replied, equally baffled.

“Idiotic, over-cautious coward,” Eames muttered as he stood and wiped his forehead. Then he sauntered over to his desk to grab a bottle, and took a long drink of water. “What? It’s true,” he said once he’d lowered it again and caught her frowning at him.

“We knew this would take time. Mal and Cobb-“

“Oh, stuff Mal and Cobb. To be entirely frank with you, I don’t think he’d be running away if he thought we were too besotted with each other to have more than half an eye left over to cast his way,” Eames said, then turned abruptly and threw the bottle at the wall so hard that the top popped back off, spraying water in an arc across the half-painted plasterboard. “Blast him to hell and back.”

“I really don’t think that’s true,” Ariadne started to say, but Eames cut her off with a derisive snort. Then he stormed off, leaving her alone in an emptied room to stare at the water mark and think.

*

Things came together faster than they'd planned for after that. Just before Arthur slid a needle into Eames’ arm on the day of the job, Eames covered Arthur’s hand with his own to stop him and exchanged a look with Ariadne. “This is all getting a little bit ridiculous, darling,” he said to Arthur.

“Mr. Eames-“

“No, look. When we’re done with this cake walk, we’re all getting on the same plane out of here and wherever it is that we land, we’re getting dinner. All three of us. Together.”

Arthur blinked at him for a moment. Then he looked at Ariadne who promptly folded her arms and raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you think we could focus on the task at hand?” Arthur asked after a moment, aggrieved, and tried to pull free of Eames’ grip.

“Not until you agree,” Eames insisted, refusing to let Arthur shake his hand off.

“It’s just dinner,” Ariadne said softly. “We all need to talk properly.”

Arthur let out a frustrated breath through his nose. “Fine,” he snapped. “Just let me-“

“We’re all yours,” Eames agreed quickly. He also dropped back flat on the bed and obligingly held out his arm.

“Arthur,” Ariadne said quietly once he’d made his way over to her. “We’re not playing games. We really do want to talk.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then ducked his head over her arm to place the needle. But Ariadne still saw the line of his mouth soften.

“Go to sleep, Ariadne,” he murmured with a smile when he was done, and then stepped back to find his own needle.

*

Ariadne tried to be patient and unobtrusive once they were on the plane, she really did. She knew the protocol well, now. Could recite it by heart if she had to, and especially if it would get Arthur to take them seriously, for once. But still she caught herself craning her neck to look around the cabin, and hitting her book against her thigh in a repetitive thwap-thwap-thwap motion. She could see Arthur from where she sat. He was a few rows in front of her and on the other side of the cabin, on the very edge of her line of sight - if she stayed still for more than five seconds, that was - but he was there. Not looking at her, or really doing anything other than looking serene as he read a newspaper.

Footsteps registered faintly behind her, but she didn’t think anything of it until whomever it was walking down the aisle stumbled and half fell across her seat.

“Dreadfully sorry,” Eames said as he quickly gathered his coat back up from his lap. “So clumsy of me.”

Then he continued sauntering down the aisle with a wink, until he stopped to, apparently, flirt with one of the flight attendants. In Ariadne’s lap, however, remained a small mountain of chocolate bars. Ariadne unwrapped one with a huff and took a big bite, relishing in the chomp of her teeth as she broke a piece away.

What she really wanted to do was follow him and ask, _chocolate? Really? Am I twelve and in need of bribing?_ But she couldn’t, because they were pretending they didn’t know each other. Ariadne whacked her head back against the seat with a groan, and then winced when her seat-mate huffed at her. “Sorry,” she muttered, and finally relented and cracked open her book.

Five minutes later she snapped it shut again and tucked it into the seat pocket in front of her, then settled back with a sigh to open another bar of chocolate. 

It was going to be a long flight.

*

By the time she reached the baggage claim, Ariadne had hit her stride. She took in the crowd and Arthur and Eames loitering at separate bends of the conveyor belt with a single glance, and then she strode right past both of them. First, she grabbed the small bag that was filled with the eclectic assortment of belongings she’d accumulated on lunch runs in New York. Then she zeroed in on Arthur’s suitcase and snagged that, too. She cast one quick look over her shoulder, to take in Arthur gaping at her and Eames starting to laugh, and then she took off for the cab rank before anyone could stop her.

Once she’d found it, she carefully stacked her bag on top of Arthur’s and fished her book back out. By the time he’d caught up with her, puffing slightly, she was halfway down page three. Again.

“We’re still too early for dinner,” she said without looking up. “So I thought we should find a hotel first and drop off our stuff.”

“Whatever you like,” he replied calmly. Ariadne peeked over the top of her book, and found him standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, smiling at her. She smiled back, and then closed her book again when Eames appeared and waved them over to a car. Before she could reach for anything, Arthur had swung her bag over his shoulder and picked up his own, and was urging her into the back seat with a hand in the small of her back.

“Any preferences for where we lay our heads tonight?” Eames asked from the front, once Arthur had helped the driver stow their bags.

Ariadne shrugged. “It’s a new city for me,” she said, and then rolled her eyes when Eames smirked at her.

“I do so love a first,” he said, voice deepening suggestively. Then he straightened up with a wink as the driver got in, and began giving directions.

“Do you mind where we stay?” Ariadne asked Arthur, a little belatedly, once they were on the road.

“Anywhere with two rooms available is fine by me,” was all he said. Ariadne’s heart dropped a little at the words, even though he'd smiled at her when he'd said it.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Eames piped up again, turning his head just enough to catch Ariadne’s gaze. His eyes were warm and calm, and she felt her spirits be buoyed a little by it. They still hadn’t had dinner, after all. Nothing had changed. Yet.

It wasn’t long before they were parked, bags unloaded, and then whisked through reception at a remarkable speed by the power of Eames’ smile.

“Two hours?” Eames asked as he handed over a keycard to Arthur.

“Better make it three, Mr. Eames,” Arthur said, already unlocking his room. “Ariadne,” he finished with a nod, and then disappeared inside.

Ariadne made a frustrated noise, but Eames quickly steered her down to the next door and unlocked their room as well. “You’re the one who suggested we change tacks, love,” he reminded her as they dropped their bags on the floor. Then his hands were back on her shoulders, and she melted against him with a sigh.

“I know, I know,” she muttered around an appreciative groan as he started to rub circles at the nape of her neck. “I just didn’t think being patient would be this hard.”

“Most things worth doing are bloody difficult,” he said, and then urged her forward towards the bed. “But why don’t I help you relax, before you vibrate apart or try and steal all the luggage in the building, hmm?”

Ariadne kicked off her shoes with a tired laugh, and then dropped face first across the mattress. “I was worried he’d still try and split up on us,” she said, her words muffled by a pillow.

“I must confess, I was a little concerned about that as well,” Eames said. The mattress shifted under her as he knelt on the edge, and then swung a leg over her body. His hands resumed their place on her shoulders, and she squirmed around until he could find a better angle. Then she sighed happily as he began to work at the knots she'd accumulated on the plane. “But Arthur agreed to dinner and, whatever other anxieties we might be harbouring, we do know that he’s a man of his word.”

*

By the time they rocked up at Arthur’s door three and a half hours later, Ariadne felt utterly boneless. Arthur, however, did not seem to share the sentiment. He answered the knock almost immediately as he pulled his jacket on, and stood regarding them for a moment while he straightened his cuffs. A muscle twitched slightly in his jaw, and his expression was impenetrable.

“I, ah, like your suit?” Ariadne said cautiously. Arthur ducked his head and grinned slightly.

“The gallant Ariadne is here to escort you, Arthur. Be a gent and take her arm, would you?” Eames asked.

With a shrug, and a shared smirk with Eames, Ariadne held out her elbow obligingly. To her surprise, Arthur took it and let her lead the way as far as the elevator.

“Where are we eating?” he asked as he hit the button for the foyer.

“Never you mind, poppet, I’ve found us just the thing,” Eames replied. Arthur quirked an eyebrow at Ariadne, but she just shrugged. She’d all but drifted off to sleep halfway through Eames’ very thorough massage, and while she could faintly recollect him speaking on the phone to somebody, she couldn’t have recalled any of the details even if they’d been dreaming and a gun had been held to her head.

There was a brief pause as they passed reception and Eames had a quiet word with the staff, and then they were all whisked away into a shiny black limo. 

“Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, love,” Eames said, when Ariadne pressed him for more details once they were settled in the back of the car.

“I wouldn’t bother,” Arthur whispered, leaning sideways until he was nearer to Ariadne. Eames just made himself more comfortable in the seat across from them, looking exceedingly smug. “Eames has always preferred to make his reveals as dramatic as humanly possible.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing to have a flair for the creative,” Eames said. Ariadne just shook her head at both of them, and leaned very slightly back against Arthur as she watched city lights whizz past her window.

“Is a limousine really all that creative, Mr. Eames?” Arthur replied but, when Ariadne turned her head sharply to look at him, he just looked amused. 

Eames didn’t seem concerned. “Perhaps not,” he conceded, and then patted the plush leather seat beside him fondly. “But you can’t deny this is the best, and everyone here is well aware that you like to have the best.”

Arthur went quiet for a moment, but Ariadne was close enough to catch the near silent huff of an almost-laugh. “And you think you can give me that?” he finally asked.

Eames shared a glance with Ariadne.

“I think we can try,” she said, breaking in.

But Eames wasn’t willing to concede the conversation. “Oh, I think we can do a little better than try,” he said, notionally to Ariadne but without taking his eyes off of Arthur.

It didn’t take them long to reach the restaurant after that, and Arthur was the first one out of the car. He immediately leant back in to take Ariadne by the hand and help her out as well and by the time Eames had dealt with the car and driver, Arthur already had her halfway through the door to the restaurant. Ariadne looked around and felt her jaw drop helplessly at the general splendour of the place.

“Surprised?” Arthur asked her, and she shrugged a shoulder. 

“Sort of? Though, after that car…,” she said with a wry grin. Then she tugged at her dress a little.

“You also look lovely,” Arthur said quietly. When she looked up he had the same slightly bashful smile she’d seen on his face at the hotel.

“I think I’m a little under-dressed,” she replied with a grimace. Then they both startled lightly as one of Eames’ hands landed on each of their shoulders.

“But you wear it so well,” he purred, and then promptly started ushering them further in.

Once they were settled at an out of the way table and reading over the menus, however, Ariadne relaxed again. Eames squeezed her knee under the tablecloth and shot her a reassuring look, even as he tried to commandeer the drinks menu from Arthur.

“Oh no,” Ariadne said, darting a hand between them and snagging it away from both of them before anyone could protest. “I refuse to ever drink another glass of whiskey.”

“Whiskey?” Arthur asked, his eyebrows raised high.

“Don’t know what she’s talking about,” Eames said, turning a charming grin on their approaching waiter. “I swear I’ve never drunk whiskey in my life.”

Arthur snorted.

“Wine,” Ariadne declared. “We want wine.” Then she started reading down the list and blanched a little at the sheer number options.

“If you’re not sure which one, dearest, perhaps we might have a look at the spirits-“

“Let me,” Arthur said as he plucked the menu safely out of Ariadne’s hands before Eames could reach it, and then selected something from the list she had been perusing. Eames pouted, but didn’t protest.

From there the night devolved into a whirl of orders, and drinks, and fancy dishes. The tension seeped out of Arthur as he exclaimed over some of the on-the-spot alterations Ariadne had made to the architecture of the dream, and Eames complained bitterly about the mark not appreciating the work he’d invested in his forge.

“I don’t understand why some people bother to have mistresses if they’re so disinterested in them,” he exclaimed in disgust as he took advantage of the distraction to sneak a bite from Arthur’s plate. "It seems an awful lot of work."

Arthur promptly tried to stab Eames with his fork, before detouring to steal a bite from Ariadne’s plate instead. From there the night disintegrated into slightly drunken laughter and merry smiles all round.

“We like you,” Ariadne finally said earnestly, putting down her cutlery after they’d polished off the main course. “We thought maybe you liked us, too, but maybe we’re wrong? We don’t want to make things weird if we are.”

Arthur sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck, then put down his own fork. He stared at her a moment, and then broke away and flicked his gaze briefly at Eames.

“You’re not wrong. But I’m not sure we’re looking for the same things,” he said as he pushed his empty plate away.

Eames started to speak, but Ariadne reached out to put a hand over his mouth and stop him. “What do you think we’re looking for?” she asked, after taking a big gulp of her wine, sloshing it slightly onto the tablecloth when Eames licked her palm.

Arthur hesitated, then said, “fun.” His gaze was now fixed on the small wine stain spreading across the tablecloth. Then he took a deep breath, and met their gazes with a cocky smile. “There are more imaginative ways to pass the time, darling,” he continued in an alarmingly good approximation of Eames’ favourite flirty drawl.

Ariadne quickly dropped her hand from Eames’ mouth to his hand. 

He returned her grip fiercely. “That was a long time ago,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Was it?” Arthur asked, not looking at all convinced.

“That’s not what this is about, now. I… _we_ haven’t really worked out what this is about for us, either,” Ariadne said. She gestured between Eames and herself with her free hand. “But it’s definitely more than just that.”

A brief silence descended, until Eames broke it. “I’m crazy about you, Arthur,” he said. “You know I always have been. Then Ariadne here surprised me, as well, and I thought maybe it was time. That I ought to try again. I know I made rather a hash of things before, but….”

He trailed off awkwardly as the waiter re-appeared to offer them the dessert menu, but he didn’t drop his imploring look.

“Sir?” the waiter repeated, and Arthur’s eyes flicked away from them again. 

“Yes, we would like dessert. Thank you,” Arthur said slowly. “Just dessert,” he finished firmly, once the waiter had whisked away their plates and disappeared again. “I-“

“Need time to think about it,” Ariadne rushed to say, squeezing Eames' hand harder. “We totally get it.” The corner of Arthur’s eyes crinkled a little, but Ariadne was too scared to look at Eames and find out whether his face was contorted with frustration. 

Dessert arrived and was eaten this time with a disappointing lack of food stealing. After putting his spoon down one last time, Arthur sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Dishevelled, it fell across his face in a way that made Ariadne itch to touch it, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve had a lovely night,” he said as he pushed back his chair. His words sounded heavy but sincere, and he hesitated once he reached his feet. Then abruptly he rounded the table and leant down over both of them, pressing long kisses against each of their cheeks. “A lovely night,” he repeated, then brushed his hair irritably off his forehead. “I’ll call,” he finished, before turning on his heel and heading quickly for the exit.

“I suppose that went better than I thought it might,” Eames said moodily into the silence that fell after Arthur’s departure.

Ariadne just spooned up a piece of her chocolate cake, and held it out to Eames. “It’s a start, at least,” she agreed as she watched him wrap his lips around her spoon. He leered at her a little as he did it, but she could see his heart wasn’t in it.

“Why don’t we finish this and head back as well,” she suggested, reaching over to cup his face with her hand. She stroked her thumb across his cheek. “Have one last night of fun before we settle for waiting by our phones?”

Eames smiled softly. “That sounds delightful, love,” he said, and then signalled for the cheque.

 *

The next time Ariadne received a call from Arthur, she smiled.

“Have you had enough time to think? Do you want me for another job?”

“Always, love,” came Eames voice down the line. “Arthur refuses to work with anyone but us now, didn’t you know? Lemme put him on, he’s got all the details.”

Ariadne listened as the call broke down into the distant sounds of a muffled argument, and the rough noise of a phone carelessly changing hands. There was a brief silence - she suspected it was just long enough for a decent kiss - and then Arthur answered.

“Ariadne?” he asked, breathless. “I can bring the files to you in-“

“Just tell me where you need me to go,” she interrupted, one hand holding the phone to her ear as she rummaged for the last fake passport Eames had left her with. 

“I’ll send you a ticket to print,” he said, halting every few words to hiss something indecipherable at Eames. “Pack a proper bag this time. I have a few jobs lined up for after, as well.”

Ariadne hung up with a smile, and went straight to her closet to pull her suitcase out and check all the essentials were still ready and waiting.

As though there had ever been a question of whether she would join them.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of fun writing these three! I usually think of this OT3 as Ariadne joining an established Arthur/Eames relationship, but your mention of Ariadne/Eames in your prompts spun this off in a totally new direction for me that I really enjoyed so thank you for that idea. I hope you enjoyed it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
